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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26964973">Setting of a Blood Red Sun</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ADCurtis/pseuds/ADCurtis'>ADCurtis</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Avatar: The Last Airbender</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Katara &amp; Zuko (Avatar) Friendship, Post-Episode: s03e16 The Southern Raiders</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 03:08:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,690</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26964973</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ADCurtis/pseuds/ADCurtis</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The one-time Commander of the Southern Raiders, Yon Rha, is sentenced to death. How does his fate affect the Waterbender who once spared his life? (Background Kataang, Maiko)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aang &amp; Katara (Avatar), Mai/Zuko (Avatar)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>45</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Setting of a Blood Red Sun</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Zuko finally found her some time after the end of the trial. She was on the highest open balcony in the Fire Palace, leaning against the railing and looking out towards the back palace gardens and the quickly setting sun. Her mocha hair cascaded down her back, and, although he couldn’t see her face, Zuko could see tenseness in her posture.</p><p>The trial had ended over an hour ago. Zuko had not had a moment to talk with her before she had left the courtroom in a flash of blue skirts. He knew he ought to follow her. But he had had formalities to attend to, and he hadn’t known where exactly she had gone. He’d checked in the nursery first, but baby Kya was still there resting peacefully in Izumi’s old crib. The nanny said Katara had not been in since before the start of the hearing.</p><p>It had taken him until now to track her down.</p><p>On hindsight, Zuko should have known she might come here. This is where the Firelord could often find Aang when he was staying in the palace. Perhaps the Airbender’s propensity to seek a higher elevation when he had something on his mind had rubbed off onto his wife as well.</p><p>Suddenly Zuko felt awkward, unsure if he should intrude on Katara’s solitude. Rubbing the back of his neck, he looked up into the western sky; he could still see a hazy spot of blood red sun pooling over the Caldera volcanic walls. But when he glanced back down towards Katara, she seemed to be looking down towards the darkening shadows below. He wondered what she was looking at in the darkness.</p><p>Zuko stepped further out onto the balcony towards her. She didn’t turn around. He wasn’t sure if she had heard him join her -- Zuko knew he often walked quietly, perhaps a holdover from his days of stealth as a blue-masked ninja -- so he cleared his throat before speaking to alert the waterbender of his presence.  </p><p>“Katara?”</p><p>Katara straitened up, quickly sweeping her hand in a movement he recognized as waterbending. He didn’t see any water but…</p><p>“Hi Zuko”</p><p>… he could still hear the tears in her voice, even if the evidence of them had been flicked away into the night.</p><p>Her back was still towards him as he stepped up beside her. Resting his palms on the railing, Zuko kept his gaze strait ahead looking out into the orange and red hues of the waning evening sky before them.</p><p>The Fire Nation was full of passionate people, but among the Nobility, especially the Royal family, expressing feelings had always been highly suppressed. (Zuko could still remember the embarrassment he had felt every time his Uncle had embraced him, having been taught that such gestures were a sign of weakness.) Out of habit, and as a sign of respect for Katara’s honor, Zuko averted his eyes from her tears.</p><p>But as he chanced a sideways glance at her, he was surprised to see that her eyes were dry, a stony clench in her jaw having dried up whatever emotion she had been feeling before his arrival.</p><p>“I came… to um…” Zuko was not quite sure how to broach the topic, “to see if you, you know, needed… I mean to see how you were feeling. After the verdict. Of the trial, I mean.”</p><p>Katara continued to look out into the blackening sky, her hands clenching white-knuckled on the stone railing.</p><p>“How am I supposed to feel? It’s what I wanted, isn’t it?”</p><p>In the years since the end of the war, there had been a series of war crime trials held to prosecute those who had abused their powers during the war to commit unsanctioned crimes against humanity. The trials were a delicate tightrope Zuko was forced to walk. On the one hand, the other nations demanded some justice, and he needed to show to the world that his people owned up to the results of a war caused by his family’s insatiable greed for power. On the other hand, his nation <em>had</em> been at war, and war was messy. He couldn’t very well condemn every member of his nation’s military who had done what their leaders had asked of them. He was the Firelord now, and he needed to have his people’s best interests in mind as well.</p><p>The trials had progressed slowly. Frankly, it had not been a top priority for Zuko in the beginning of his reign. So many of those who eventually were prosecuted had spent years in prison awaiting trial, or in some cases, even walked free for several years until enough evidence was gathered for their arrest. </p><p>Some had called for General Iroh to be put on trial as well for his military career, including his 600-day siege on Ba Sing Se. But Zuko had put his foot down. There was no way to achieve justice for all the acts done (on both sides) in the last 100 years of war. And trying to justify the ledger was never an option. Therefore, the war trials held were reserved strictly for those officers who used their power and position to inflict particular cruelty against non-military targets.</p><p>Yon Rha was one of the last to be tried.</p><p>Given that he had been retired for some time even before the end of the war, and those in active duty had generally been tried first, Yon Rha’s trial was not officially held until fifteen years after the end of the war. He had been imprisoned for just three years of those fifteen.</p><p>When Zuko had first read over the final list of names of war criminals to be tried, he had skimmed right over the name before recognition came to him and his eyes darted back to it. <em>Yon Rha. Why did he know that name?</em> Zuko had set down the scroll and pinched the bridge of his nose when realization had come to him.</p><p>Zuko debated whether or not to inform Katara and Aang of the man’s impending trial. But in the end, he had sent them a hawk, feeling that they had a right to know.</p><p>Zuko had been surprised when only Katara had arrived; baby Kya in arms, to the Fire Nation. Aang was not with her.</p><p>She had been uncharacteristically tight lipped about her coming without her husband. Some excuse about Aang needing to stay in Republic City with Bumi. Kya, still just a baby, needed to come with her mother. Zuko wondered why Aang and Katara didn’t just bring Bumi with them – they’d done it many times before after all. Six-year-old Bumi seemed to enjoy his time in the palace, happy as ever to chase after Zuko’s nine-year-old daughter, Izumi (who Bumi had had a crush on since he could toddle). Aang and Katara knew that Izumi’s nannies were always available to care for the children when their parents were needed elsewhere. They should have known that the whole family was welcome.</p><p>So Zuko did not know the real reason Aang hadn’t come. He did not know what words had been exchanged between his two friends. And he didn’t pry.</p><p>The trials, due to the sensitivity of the information shared in the courtroom, were not usually open to the public. But the Firelord had made an exception for Katara, Waterbending Master of the Southern Water Tribe and wife of the Avatar, to be in attendance.</p><p>Yon Rha was a very old man now. What hair he had left had turned snow white, and his perpetual frown seemed to sag with even deeper wrinkles than the last (and only) time Zuko had seen him: when he had accompanied Katara on a covert mission to assassinate her mother’s killer.</p><p>The information presented against the man turned Zuko’s stomach, although sickeningly, none were atrocities he hadn’t heard in these trials before.</p><p>Turns out that killing Katara’s mother was a far cry from severe enough a crime to convict the man – in fact, it wasn’t even mentioned in the trial. After all, he had done THAT in the line of duty, simply fulfilling an order from his superior officer. If the murder of Katara’s mother had been Yon Rha’s worst offense, he wouldn’t even be here. He would still be at home in his little mountain town pulling weeds from his garden on his hands and his achy old knees.</p><p>But it turns out that Yon Rha was more deplorable than they had known on that day so many years ago, when Katara had halted the rain in mid-air and spared the man’s life by a bare inch of a dozen sharpened ice spears. Zuko found himself perversely grateful that he hadn’t known <em>then</em> what he knew now.</p><p>Turns out that during his time as the commander of the Southern Raiders, Yon Rha had been cruel, merciless, and violent, taking pleasure in killing and plunder, and encouraging his soldiers in their most base desires. The towns he raised were left decimated and violated in every unholy way. But the dirty secret that earned him this trial today was that, although it was against military policy, Yon Rha had been known to take “off the record” captives onto his ship (the reports of these prisoners ages making Zuko’s fists steam) that he kept for amusement. And when he tired of them, or they became inconvenient, the lucky ones were sold as slaves on the black market (the gold from their sale going directly into the Commander’s own pocket). The less lucky ones had simply been thrown overboard.</p><p>The trial had been short. Yon Rha was convicted and sentenced to execution by the end of the week.</p><p>On the balcony, Zuko looked over at Katara, considering her response: <em>How am I supposed to feel? It’s what I wanted, isn’t it?</em></p><p>He spoke softly. “Is it, Katara? I mean, the verdict, <em>is</em> it what you wanted?”</p><p>Katara let out a shaky sigh as she looked down at her hands on the railing. “I think so. It’s what he deserves. What he deserved <em>years</em> ago.”</p><p>Zuko’s eyes widened momentarily in surprise, not just at the implication of her words, but also at the bitterness he heard in her voice. She sounded like she had <em>that night</em> so many years ago. Zuko hadn’t expected… He had known Katara for a long time now, and he understood her much better than he had back then. He knew this was not like her. His question came out, almost against his will.</p><p>“Do you… do you regret not killing him all those years ago?”</p><p>Katara sighed again as she leaned forward onto her hands, her hair falling forward between them like a curtain being drawn. Her voice sounded small, “no.”</p><p>Then tucking her hair behind her ear, she pinned Zuko with an intense look. “Of course I don’t regret not killing him. I was a child! And even if I wasn’t…” Katara looked back out at the ever-darkening sky. “Aang was right. We both know he was right.”</p><p>Zuko thought back to that day, when in desperation to earn some meager portion of acceptance from Katara, he had offered the young waterbender a chance to avenge her dead mother.</p><p>But even as he had done so, he’d been unprepared for the transformation he would witness in the formidable, but ever-nurturing “mother” of the Avatar’s group. That night Katara had become fierce and single-minded, even obsessed. Lashing out in anger at her brother, at Aang, at anyone that would try to stop her. Zuko had been on the receiving end of Katara’s ferocity before, but even so he had never seen her like <em>that</em> before. And he had to admit that it sent a shiver down his spine, even now, just thinking of the terrifying rage her pain had caused in her.</p><p>Zuko had thought that killing Yon Rha was what she needed. That revenge would bring her closure, some measure of healing. But he had been wrong.</p><p>He wondered how different things would have been if Aang had not stopped them that night. Not begged Katara to spare the monster.</p><p>It had all sounded like foolishness to him. Weakness. A make-believe tale told by Air Nomad monks to trick the children into behaving. <em>Don’t be poisoned by revenge. Let your anger out, and then let it go. Forgive.</em></p><p>Zuko shuddered to think of some of the things he had said to Aang that night. Mocking his people and their beliefs. Shame filled him now to think of it: that he, Prince Zuko, who was among them solely because of the forgiving nature of that boy… that he, the great-grandson of the man who had murdered the Air Nomads, stood there insulting the last of them.</p><p>And he now knew that he had been wrong. Seeking revenge had brought out only the worst in Katara. But letting it go? Letting go of her pain and anger was the reason he could stand next to her tonight, as her friend.</p><p>It had allowed her to forgive him.</p><p>Zuko nodded. “Yeah. Aang was right. I hadn’t known it at the time -- All I’d ever known up until then was power through aggression (… well, that’s not entirely true. I mean, there was my uncle…)” Zuko trailed off, thinking of the complexities of his twisted family. Of the beacon that his Uncle had been to him: proof that he could be more than the sum of his lineage.</p><p>Zuko looked back at Katara. Her breathing had calmed somewhat, although her shoulders sagged with some unseen weight.</p><p>Zuko spoke again. “You know, that night, all I’d wanted was for you to forgive me, to accept me. I’d thought that helping you avenge your mother would buy that for me.” Zuko looked up at the stars that began to peak out of the dusky darkness. “So you see, my motive was inherently selfish. I <em>did</em> want to help you. But I stood in a place to gain from it too. But Aang? All he ever had in mind was what was best for you.” Zuko laughed once to himself. “Even way back then he would have done anything for you, Katara.”</p><p>“I know,” she admitted, and despite herself, a small, infatuated smile appeared at the corner of her mouth, “and fifteen years later, I’ve still got him wrapped around my little finger.”</p><p>Zuko chuckled in his throat in agreement. “That you do.”</p><p>But the smile on Katara’s face slowly dissolved as she looked soberly back out into the darkness. Her brow lowered in deliberation as she said, “But I’m not sorry Yon Rha is going to die. I’m glad of it. He deserves to die for the atrocities he’s committed.”</p><p>Zuko’s thoughts suddenly turned to his own father, the fallen Phoenix King, who even now, sat deep in the heart of Caldera City’s most secure dungeon.</p><p>It didn’t seem fair, really. That men like Yon Rha were dying for their crimes, while his own father, the madman who had perpetuated the war and even sought to burn the world to ash, was granted life.</p><p>But that had been Aang’s choice of course. Not his. It was Aang’s Act of Peace that brought The War to an end.</p><p>And Zuko knew that he would be lying if he didn’t acknowledge that deep down, he was grateful that Aang had spared his father. Why was that? Was it that he still loved him? Or that he hated him enough to want him to suffer? Or perhaps he enjoyed some twisted satisfaction knowing that his father saw his “failure of a son” rise to power?</p><p>Honestly those emotions were too complicated to sort through. It had been fifteen years since Ozai’s fall, and Zuko had not figured them out yet. Maybe he never would.</p><p>But one thing he was sure of was that he was grateful that Aang hadn’t had to do it. Did Ozai deserve to die? Probably. But regardless of what Ozai deserved, <em>Aang</em> deserved better. Who gives a damn about what Ozai deserves? That gentle twelve-year-old Air Nomad deserved <em>not</em> to kill him.</p><p>Just like fourteen-year-old Katara deserved not to kill Yon Rha.</p><p>And yet now, the man was sentenced to death. Yon Rha would be dead by the end of the week.</p><p>Zuko was brought back from his ponderings by Katara’s voice. “Sitting in that trial today…” Katara teeth grit in anger, “I hated him all over again. You heard what they said; my family’s loss was not enough to convict him, was not the worst thing he had done. He really is a monster!”</p><p>Zuko nodded in agreement, but said nothing. The two stood in silence for a moment, until Katara spoke again.</p><p>“Sitting in that courtroom, I realized something.” Tears began to glisten in her startlingly blue eyes. “I now know that Yon Rha’s death won’t bring the peace I once thought it might.”</p><p>Zuko watched her carefully. Wondering what insight she had gained for her to feel that way.</p><p>“My mother is still gone.” Katara’s voice hitched. “I’ll never get to introduce her to Aang. I didn’t get to feel her hands brush my hair on my wedding day. Or to see her hold Bumi in her arms. My mom will never get to be ‘Grandma Kya’ to her name’s sake.” A tear streamed down Katara’s cheek, followed quickly by another. “All of these losses remain, whether or not Yon Rha lived. What he took from me was irrecoverable. And nothing, not even this murderer’s death, is going to change that.”</p><p>Zuko listened, his own heart breaking for her continued sorrow. The loss of a mother had once been something the two of them shared in common. But he had been fortunate enough to find his mother again. Whereas Katara’s loss was permanent. And clearly still very painful. Zuko imagined that pain would always be with her.</p><p>Silence beat between them like heartbeats, until Katara spoke again. “I asked Aang not to come. I told him I wanted to do this alone.”</p><p>Zuko turned his full attention to her, lifting his brow in silent question.</p><p>“I just couldn’t bear to see Aang’s sorrow at the death of my mother’s killer. He would try to hide it, of course, for my sake. But I would know. That he was sorry at the loss of life.”</p><p>Wetness spilled over her cheeks again. “But I knew I wouldn’t share his feelings.”</p><p>Katara wiped her cheek roughly with her hand, “I am tired of giving that man any more power over me and my life. I’m going to do what Aang asked of me on the day before I left to come here. He said to ‘Let those whose responsibility it is to deal out justice, deal with the burden of justice.’”</p><p>Zuko flinched. He knew that he was one of those to bear this burden of justice. Of course he didn’t carry out the executions himself, but he was just as accountable for every death from these trials as if he swung the ax himself. He looked at his friend, suddenly grateful that she was spared that burden. Her burden of loss was heavy enough as it was. He was grateful once again that she had not hefted the ax of executioner.</p><p>“Justice is being dealt.” Katara said. Then icy indifference froze her words as she continued, “That monster is going to die by week’s end. And I feel nothing for Yon Rha. I don’t care enough about him to stay around for it.”</p><p>Zuko looked carefully at his friend, his eyes searching her face for a moment, looking for deception in her words. Was she lying when she said she didn’t care? That Yon Rha meant so little to her now that she would not stay to ensure his sentence was carried out? Or was she lying to herself?</p><p>Zuko was not always the best at reading people, but he saw no lie.</p><p>“It was actually Aang’s idea. To come. Well sort of,” Katara said scrunching up her nose a little and rubbing her forehead with her fingertips as she tried to explain. “I mean, he doesn’t like the trials, or at least the death sentences. But when he saw that your letter about Yon Rha was… bothering me, he asked if I thought we should come to the trial. He thought that perhaps it might help me heal. To find some closure.”</p><p>Katara signed heavily. “I know he was hurt when I asked him not to come. I know he wanted to be here for me. But Aang gives me space when I need it. I know what he feels, but he always steps back and lets me make my own choices.”</p><p>Zuko dipped his head once in agreement. “Like that day all those years ago – when I look back on it now, I’m amazed that Aang let us take Appa. I mean, he knew where we were going, and what we planned to do. And he knew it would be… damaging, for you, if you went through with it.” A tinge of awe slipped into Zuko’s voice before he finished. “And yet he didn’t stop us. <em>Why</em> didn’t he stop us?”</p><p>“Because he knew I needed to face Yon Rha,” Katara answered. “And he believed in me. To make the right choice. I am continually astounded at Aang’s faith in me.” She blew out an audible breath. “Frankly he has more faith in me than I do. More than I deserve.”</p><p>“I agree,” Zuko said under his breath in agreement.</p><p>Katara sent him a sideways glare. Once upon a time, a look like that from Katara would have left Zuko double-checking his lock at night. But now, he knew where he stood with her. He was inside Katara’s inner circle now, under her protection and within the circle of her love and loyalty. And, in Zuko’s mind, there was no safer place to be. Safe enough even to not fear her, even when he put his foot in his mouth. </p><p>But her scowl did alert Zuko to his misspeak. Flustered, he tried to correct it. “No! Not you! I meant that I know how you feel.” Zuko’s words stumbled over themselves as he worked to clarify. “I mean! About me. That Aang believes in <em>me</em> too. And I don’t deserve it. Not like you do. Deserve it. ‘Cause you do. But I don’t feel like <em>I </em>do. But Aang trusts in me anyway. Is what I meant…”</p><p>Katara glared again, but this time Zuko caught the playful trace of a smirk on her mouth. “Watch it Fire Boy. Just be glad the moon isn’t full tonight.”</p><p>With an involuntary catch in his breath, Zuko reflexively glanced up at the sky. The stars had come out in earnest now, but the moon was just a sliver, barely visible through the wispy night clouds. Zuko exhaled. He trusted Katara, of course, but his one and only experience with bloodbending (while witnessing a violent Katara bloodbend the man she had thought was her mother’s killer) had given him a… <em>healthy respect</em> for the terrifying prospect.</p><p>Katara laughed out loud at his reaction, the sound of her laughter ringing out into the quiet night as she bumped Zuko good-naturedly with her shoulder. Zuko could feel his cheek lift in a half-smile, joining her mirth at his expense. He bumped her shoulder back. “It’s good to hear you laugh, Katara. I’ve been worried about you today.”</p><p>“Thanks,” Katara answered, the tension in her shoulders having eased noticeably. “You’re a good friend, Zuko.” Katara looked up, pinning him once again with her startlingly blue eyes. “And I don’t know if I ever thanked you, you know, formally, for going with me that night. I needed… someone. And you were there for me. So thank you.”</p><p>Zuko shrugged. “It was nothing.” Which of course he knew was untrue. He knew what it meant to have someone stand by you in your worst moments.</p><p>“Aang and I are lucky to have you in our life, Zuko.”</p><p>Zuko scoffed a cynical exhale. If anyone was lucky in this relationship, it was him. Sometimes he could still hardly believe that he had once hunted these two people, who were now dearer to him than family.</p><p>Katara stood up strait, patting the railing with her palm. “Thanks for coming to talk to me, Zuko. I feel much better now.” She let out a thorough sigh. Then she linked her arm with his and turned them both back toward the palace. “But I better get back to Kya. She’s probably starving by now.”</p><p>Zuko nodded. “Well let’s head to the nursery first before meeting Mai for dinner. Mai won’t admit it, but she’s been aching to hold Kya ever since your last visit.” Zuko felt a pang of jealousy of the baby Katara had brought with her, but he masked it the best he could. He knew he and Mai were immensely blessed with the one daughter they had; he felt shame to wish for more.</p><p>Katara gave him a look that made him feel like she was reading him like an open scroll. Zuko didn’t doubt she probably could, no matter how hard he tried to hide his transparency. But Katara was kind enough not to mention whatever she saw.</p><p>Zuko cleared his throat, “Mai will be disappointed not to see Aang though – few people in this world genuinely entertain her, but she has always found Aang really amusing.” Zuko glanced carefully at Katara, careful not to offend her. “Don’t get me wrong, I understand why you came alone. But I must admit, I’m sorry I didn’t get to see Aang and Bumi this time.”</p><p>“Well Bumi was <em>devastated</em> when he found out that I was coming here without him. He asked me to ‘profess his love to his girlfriend’,” Katara laughed. Then she laughed again a little louder when she caught sight of Zuko’s surprised face.</p><p>“Well tell him he might do better to shoot for a girl closer to his own age,” Zuko said. With mild chagrin, Zuko couldn’t help but be reminded of Aang; sometimes he wondered at the confidence of the boys of this family, ever self-assured enough to go after older girls.</p><p>Katara smirked. “Well, I don’t know about that…”</p><p>Zuko felt something strange and uneasy tingle in his stomach. He couldn’t identify this new emotion. “What do you mean?” he asked suspiciously. “Izumi acts nothing but annoyed with Bumi every time he’s here.”</p><p>“I know, I know.” Katara agreed. “But after our last trip here, I found Bumi fawning over something in a little dragon-carved box – a gift from Izumi apparently.”</p><p>“What was it?” Zuko asked, cautiously. He didn’t know how he felt about Izumi giving boys (no matter how young) gifts.</p><p>“It was a lock of her hair, Zuko.”</p><p>Zuko stopped in his tracks, and Katara let go of his arm and laughed at his expression as he sputtered, “Izumi shouldn’t be… I mean that isn’t… <em>appropriate</em>.”</p><p>Katara’s laugh made Zuko’s cheeks heat up self-consciously.</p><p>“Never fear, Worrylord! She’s only nine. It’s nothing!”</p><p>Zuko watched Katara as she walked inside, his head spinning with this new apprehension, something brand new to add to his list of anxieties. He tried not to imagine the way he knew Mai would roll her eyes at him when he brought up this new concern.</p><p>As Zuko looked to the sky, as if asking the Universe why fatherhood had to feel like this, his eyes looked once more towards the west. The sun had now fully set below the gagged edge of the dormant volcano’s rim. The blood red sunset having given way to a calming navy blue night. Like burning scars of the past being put to rest in deep healing waters.</p><p>As he considered his daughter’s disconcerting gift <em>to a boy</em> in contrast with the kind of childhood burdens he and Katara had born, Zuko took a deep, grateful breath. And decided that in light of the past, they could handle whatever the future had in store.</p><p> </p><p>……………</p>
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